


Nothing More

by tryslora



Category: In Demand - Texas (Music Video)
Genre: Angst, Convertible With the Top Down, Dancing, Dancing at the Gas Station, Date Night, F/M, Pre and Post Canon, video fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have this night and nothing more.</p>
<p>A trip down the coast, a fancy dinner, a night spent dancing until their feet ache and their legs burn.</p>
<p>She hopes for a lifetime that he will not give because they only have this night.</p>
<p>Nothing more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lonelywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelywalker/gifts).



> THIS VIDEO. Wow. Just... wow. I am so glad you prompted this, and I could not resist writing something for it. Happy Yuletide!

They have this night and nothing more.

A trip down the coast, a fancy dinner, a night spent dancing until their feet ache and their legs burn.

She hopes for a lifetime that he will not give because they only have this night.

Nothing more.

#

He holds her chair until she sits, his fingers brushing against her shoulder, dipping beneath her hair to stroke the nape of her neck. She shivers and hides a smile, but she sees an answer on his lips and knows she has failed to keep it from him.

She loves him. He loves her. It seems as if should be simple, yet nothing is easy. It never has been. It can’t be.

She reaches for her menu, and he touches her hand.

_I’ll order for you_.

Her eyes go wide, and she starts to protest, but he silences her with a fingertip to her lips.

_Do you trust me?_

Always, she will always trust him. She tells him so, and he sits back, perusing the menu for just a moment before he signals for he waiter.

While their food is prepared, he feeds her tidbits of fresh, hot buttered bread, dipped in sweet honey.

A spot drips on her lip, and before she can lick the sticky sweetness away, his mouth covers hers, tongue sweeping over her lip. She sighs as he withdraws, pouting.

_Wait_.

She would wait forever, if it meant they would _have_ forever.

But they only have tonight.

Nothing more.

#

They stand at the door to the restaurant, and she shivers.

She has a wrap, of course, but the wrap means nothing when the temperature has dropped unseasonably low. She crosses her arms, trying to warm herself despite the thin straps of her dress.

The jacket, when it falls across her shoulders, is comforting. Heavy and thick and warm, and it smells of his cologne.

She turns to look, uncertain.

_I’ll be warm. I’ve still got the suit jacket._

It only gives her an excuse once they are in the car, snuggling close, trying to warm him with her body as the wind whips around them. His arm fall across her shoulder, and she sighs, burrowing closer.

This, this is what she craves. Wants. Needs.

This is what she lives and dies for, the way his nearness makes her heart ache and fly all at once.

He presses a kiss to the top of her head and she smiles.

She lets her hand slip beneath his suit jacket, pressed against the fabric of his shirt, just over his heart. She feels it beating and breathes in time, letting herself relax.

If she could have this night, just like this, it is all she has ever needed from him.

Nothing more.

#

She usually hates her money, but tonight is exactly what they need.

The driver is loyal to her. He has never whispered a word of what she does, has never told her father how she fell in love with the man he trusted most. Her father’s best friend from college. His Director of Development. The man who was named her godfather when she was born.

It is wrong, but oh, it is so perfectly _right_.

The driver will take them wherever she says, and he will pretend not to see anything that they do.

It makes her brave, her hand sliding over his leg, catching his hand to slip it beneath the jacket. He is gentle in his refusal, his touch staying in places that could be seen in public. They have _never_.

She wonders if they will _ever_.

She asks, does he love her?

_I love you._

She holds the words close to her heart, letting them warm her, bubbling inside as she sighs into the crook of his neck. He shivers, and she knows she affects him. She knows she could have him, if she found the right time, the right place. He is hers, and she is his, and that is how it was meant to be.

She tells him so in whispered words, lips brushing against the underside of his chin.

_Nothing is so simple. You know that._

She knows. She _knows_. He has been married. He has children. He has an ex-wife who still loves him and sometimes they fuck.

She doesn’t care. 

She twists in his arms, snuggling close as she looks out past the guard rail, down into the city spread out below them. Lights twinkle as they pass by, a city wide awake in the depths of night.

They have this tonight. This time, this life, this love.

Nothing more.

#

The car slows as the driver pulls into the gas station. 

It wakes her, and she comes slowly from gentle slumber, reluctant to leave the warmth of the arms wrapped around her. She can snuggle here with him while the driver pumps the gas.

But the driver needs a moment to stretch his legs. Get coffee, have a cigarette far from the car so the smoke doesn’t infuse itself into the leather of the seats.

They untangle, and he steps out of the car first. She follows close behind, a slow impish grin lighting her lips.

He turns to see her, and she opens his jacket, letting it fall away from her arms, into the car.

He laughs, and she sees youth in those eyes. Her hands come up to smooth away the wrinkles, to caress the side of his face as she leans in to kiss him.

She tastes the sweet heat of him, leaning in as he captures her hand. There is a memory of a song in her mind, and together they begin to dance. They echo well-worn footsteps, trodding pavement unused to such light toes. In her mind, she sees the chandeliers and hears the orchestra replaying moments from earlier that evening.

They dance as if they were made for each other. Seamless. Perfect. He steps and she follows, he nudges and she spins for him. He holds her as if she were precious, and she cannot look away from his gaze.

Sharp. Loving. Adoring. His smile quirks to see her stare, and she kisses him again.

The driver returns once they have slowed. The driver waits while he holds out his overcoat, waiting for her to shrug into it once more. They tuck themselves into the backseat, and again, she feels him kiss her forehead.

It feels like he says goodbye.

He cradles her hand in his, lifting it to his lips to brush a kiss across her fingertips.

Her hand falls to his knee, his wraps around her shoulder, tipping her until she curls against him.

They cuddle.

Nothing more.

#

Dawn tilts the sky from grey to pink, lifting the sun above the city skyline as they pass the city limits. They are surrounded by brick and stone.

People could see them. People who know them.

He doesn’t release her, and she refuses to move. She loves to be this close, to pretend that they have more than they do. She loves the hope, the way it burns in her chest and makes her want more.

The driver pulls up in front of a brownstone she has known since childhood.

They disentangle themselves. She pushes her windblown hair from her face; his expression becomes a calm, collected mask of indifference.

He steps out.

She leans into the space he left behind, watching him walk away.

She calls his name, and he turns. She waits, hoping.

_I love you_.

Three words, and he turns and walks away, leaving her there.

Nothing more.

#

She lies on her bed, empty and alone despite the house being filled with friends and family. She wants nothing to do with them. She aches inside with the memory of what has slipped through her fingers.

But her mother will not let her be, and her father wishes that his eldest daughter be there. Two brothers and three sisters are not enough; if she does not make an appearance his reputation as a father will be ruined.

And so she smiles and nods and speaks politely to all who are there. She moves through the room with an ease of presence that only comes from _knowing_ society since birth.

She sees his children first: two boys, both younger than herself. She greets them politely, asks after their mother and their father. She moves on then, avoiding their mother. Avoiding him.

The room feels cramped. Hot. She makes her way into the hallway where she can breathe, where no one watches to see if she smiles perfectly. She can lean back, close her eyes. Inhale slowly, and exhale even more slowly. Relax.

When she opens her eyes, he is there. Watching her.

She waits.

_I love you_.

She laughs. You said that, she tells him, because she needs more than that. She needs to know that this ache in her heart is echoed in his. She needs _him_.

His fingers are light against her cheek, a ghostly touch. He exhales roughly as his palm flattens, touching her. Holding her. When he kisses her, she reaches up, pulling him close, reveling in the taste of him, in the glory of being _with_ him. This, yes, _this_.

_Your father may never speak to me again. He might disown you. Cast you out._

I don’t care, she tells him, and she doesn’t. She can make her own way. She has some money of her own, a trust her father cannot touch. She can take care of herself, if she needs to. All she needs to know is that he will be there for her, that she will not be entirely alone.

They might see us, she points out as he gathers her in his arms. They have danced before in public, at these gatherings, in that very ballroom. But never this close, never like this. Never with his hand on her hip, fingers splayed across her bottom. Never with her hips fit to his, breasts crushed between them. Never with her hands clasped behind his head, his mouth on hers as if he might devour her soul.

_I don’t care. Let them see us. Let them talk._

He gives her the most perfect gift: himself.

This is all she has ever wanted.

Nothing more.


End file.
